Unwritten
by ariex04
Summary: "An Old One hardly ever lets his name be recorded anywhere." So maybe that's why the Ancient Runes teacher's name is never written in the books... ON HIATUS
1. Chapter 1

_Merriman paced back and forth in front of Albus's desk. Albus knew better than to ask what was wrong; he simply waited._

"_Our final battle is approaching," Merriman said abruptly._

_Albus said nothing._

"_This summer."_

_Albus said nothing._

"_If we lose, you will know almost immediately. If we win, it will be quite a bit less obvious."_

There's something more, _Albus thought. _He's leading up to what he really wants to say._ He nodded, and said nothing._

"_If we win, there are several different things that could happen."_

_Merriman was silent for a long minute. The only sounds in Albus's office were his footsteps as he paced._

"_I may not return, if we win. Then again, I may. It depends."_

_Merriman did not say what it depended on. Albus didn't expect him to._

"_If, this fall, the Dark does not rule and I do not return... then one particular outcome will have happened."_

_Quiet. Whatever Merriman was trying to say, he seemed to be having a rather difficult time with it._

"_I want you to do something for me, if I don't return."_

_Albus waited._

"_Will Stanton is a... colleague of mine."_

_The pause, not to mention Merriman's expression, told Albus a great deal._

"_I want you to... look in on him for me. I..." Merriman trailed off. He didn't need to continue; Albus was fairly sure he knew what Merriman meant but was trying very hard to avoid admitting._

"_Of course," Albus agreed._

"_Thank you." And he was gone._

_It was the last time Albus Dumbledore would ever see Merriman Lyon. _

_

* * *

_

**Summer, 1987**

Will Stanton.

When Albus had agreed to find Will Stanton, he'd had no idea how difficult it would be. After all, he had no idea what continent, let alone country, to begin looking in. He had no idea whether to look in the Wizarding World or the Muggle, how old Will Stanton was, or anything about him.

But he'd finally tracked him down. It had taken him years, but he'd tracked him down at last.

Whatever he'd been expecting, it wasn't the young man he saw before him in this Muggle library.

Will was Severus's age, or perhaps a few years younger, with straight brown hair and a thoughtful expression on his face as he read. He looked perfectly ordinary, which was perhaps the most surprising thing of all- _although it really shouldn't be, _Albus thought wryly. Nothing about him seemed at all magical, very differently from Merriman, who had always radiated power.

Still, Albus was certain that this was Will Stanton. There was really only one thing to do now; talk to him.

"Excuse me? Would you happen to be Will Stanton?" Albus inquired, approaching the young man.

He looked up immediately. Blue-gray eyes met Albus's. "Yes," he said with some surprise. "Yes, I am." Will looked with interest and amusement at Albus's violet robes, which stood out like a sore thumb in a Muggle environment.

"My name is Albus Dumbledore. Some time ago, a friend of mine mentioned your name: Merriman Lyon? I'm afraid it took me a rather long time to find you..."

Will jerked, seemingly involuntarily, at Merriman's name.

He sat down next to Will and said, "Merriman asked me, some years ago, to look in on you if he had to leave."

Will said, voice studiously indifferent, "Did he?"

"Yes," Albus said quietly, looking at Will thoughtfully. He hesitated, looking at Will's face. He opened his mouth to speak- and closed it. _Not yet._

Will stared at him in silence. _Perhaps he is more like Merriman than I thought at first. _Sometimes you had to focus more on what Merriman didn't say than what he did, after all. He had an idea that Will was the same way.

He'd intended to speak to Will and leave, having fulfilled Merriman's request.

He changed his mind.

"I'm the headmaster at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. During the summer, I often have guests stay at the school. You're welcome to come and stay, if you'd like."

Will hesitated for a long moment. "Okay."

* * *

Will did not volunteer information about Merriman and the Old Ones, and Albus never asked.

* * *

"How much do you know about the Wizarding World?" Albus asked on Will's first day there, shortly after holidays began.

Will shrugged. "Next to nothing."

Albus smiled at him. "Would you like to remedy that?"

Will nodded and said, "Okay." He looked at Albus with curiosity. Albus could practically hear Will thinking, _Why are you doing this?_

Albus wasn't entirely sure.

* * *

"An' this here's Fluffy," Hagrid said proudly.

Will looked at the three-headed dog with mingled fascination and wariness. "_Fluffy_?"

Albus chuckled. He'd thought the same thing.

"_Down_, Fluffy! He'll let yeh pet 'im, if yeh'd like, 's long 's I say it's alrigh'."

Hesitantly, Will stroked one of Fluffy's heads. That head licked his hand, but the other two started barking. Will jerked backwards out of reach hurriedly. "What did I do?"

Hagrid laughed. "They all wan' ter be petted, o' course."

Albus interrupted, "Will, Hagrid is an expert on all the magical creatures that can be found at Hogwarts. I asked him if he would show some to you, if you are interested."

The excitement on Will's face was all Albus needed as an answer.

* * *

Albus said cheerfully as they walked into the dungeon, "Hello, Severus. Will, this is our Potions Master, Severus Snape. Severus, this is Will Stanton, a guest of mine."

Severus said curtly, "Albus, I'm busy at the moment."

Albus twinkled at him. "We won't interrupt. Continue working as if we aren't here." _It's good for Severus to have some contact with the outside world._

Will hesitated, shooting an uncomfortable look at Albus. Albus smiled at him and said, "Don't mind Severus, he can be rather grumpy sometimes."

If glares could kill, Albus would be dead quicker than you could say "Avada Kedavra."

Will looked around the dungeon, curiosity overwhelming awkwardness. He peered at the ingredients in the cupboard and looked with interest at the old potion books. Finally, his gaze rested on Severus's potion.

"What is he working on?" Will murmured to Albus.

"It's the Draught of Living Death. It causes the drinker-"

Severus interrupted, "If you _must _chat, can't you chat somewhere _else_?"

Albus chuckled. "If you insist, Severus. We'll come back another day."

He heard Severus mutter under his breath, "I can't wait."

* * *

One day, Albus found Will outside, sitting nearby to the Whomping Willow and reading. His pile of books was an interesting one: A History of Magic, Magical Theory, One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi, and Unfogging the Future.

Albus smiled and said, "It's not everybody that would read textbooks for fun."

Will looked up from A History of Magic with surprise. _Too caught up in his book to hear me coming. _"They're very interesting. And anyway, if I want to learn about the Wizarding World, what better way is there than reading some first year textbooks?"

"And a third year textbook, but I see your point. Are you enjoying A History of Magic?"

"I find it fascinating. I like history."

Albus nodded. "I have some more recent history books, as well, if you're interested."

"I'd like to read them, as soon as I'm finished with these."

"I'll leave you to it, then."

* * *

Albus often found Will in the library, deeply engrossed in one book or another. So it wasn't really a surprise when Will came into the library one day six weeks before school began.

Will glanced curiously over Albus's shoulder at his book as he passed. He said hurriedly, as Albus looked over at him, "Sorry, am I bothering you?"

"Oh, no. I'm just trying to think of who I could persuade to take the Ancient Runes job. It's not a very popular subject, I'm afraid; most people seem to find it quite pointless."

Will said with interest, "Ancient Runes?"

"Yes, the writings of the earliest wizards." Albus flipped a page in the book. "This is one type- this particular group of runes is famous because nobody has been able to translate it."

"It's a cipher."

Albus twisted to stare at him. "What?"

"It's a cipher," Will repeated, sitting down next to him. "It can't be translated without a corresponding group of runes." Catching Albus's startled look, he explained, "I've seen runes almost exactly like this before."

An idea was growing in Albus's mind. "Do you know what these say?" He turned to another page in the book.

"'The beast was huge, and fire flew from its mouth,'" Will translated.

Albus nodded. "A famous description of a dragon. What about these?"

"'Stir twice to the left and three times to the right.'"

"Potions instructions. What about these?"

They looked at runes for several hours, long enough for Albus to ascertain that Will could, in fact, read all four types of ancient runes with apparent ease.

Albus considered his idea for a moment as they left the library. _Yes. It could work._

"Will? Would you be interested in teaching Ancient Runes here at Hogwarts next year?"

Will stared at him, looking stunned. "What?"

"Teach here," Albus repeated patiently. "You understand Ancient Runes and I need someone to teach the subject. Why not you?"

"I don't have any idea how to teach," Will protested. "And I don't know much about the Wizarding World."

"I'm sure you'll learn about both soon enough. Anyway, we have six weeks to prepare, don't we?"

Will hesitated. "I... I don't know."

* * *

Two weeks before school began, Will said, "Okay, I'll do it."


	2. Chapter 2

Author's Note: I just thought I'd clarify a couple of things about this story. First, this story will be completely canon. It will be a teacher-focused and Will-focused look at the Harry Potter books, but nothing will change from them. This story will also cover from 1987 through Harry's years at Hogwarts, ending a couple years after the Harry Potter books. I will update at least once a week, and I'll try to update twice a week or so.

ladyofthedark- Thanks for reviewing! Some of the ideas you suggested I actually was already planning to write. And one thing you mentioned will actually be in the next chapter.

* * *

**Fall, 1987**

Will looked at his first class of students and said, "Welcome to Ancient Runes!"

On the board, he'd written "Welcome to Ancient Runes" in English and in runes.

He smiled at the group of third years. "These are some of the runes we'll be studying." He indicated the lower portion of the blackboard. "There are four main runic languages that we'll be studying, one of which you can see here."

The students shifted a bit in their seats, trying to get a better look at the board. Several of them eyed their quills, as if wondering whether or not to start writing.

"But before we get into that, I'd like to talk about_ why_."

Quiet fell. Will erased the blackboard and wrote, "Why Ancient Runes?"

"Why are ancient runes important? Why are they taught?"

None of the students raised their hands, although most of them had thoughtful expressions.

"Let's start with something simpler. Why did you take Ancient Runes?"

_Hands. Good._ "Yes?" Will asked, looking at a girl in the front row. _I need to work on learning names._

"It sounded interesting."

Many of the other students nodded. "Yes, that will probably have been the reason most of you picked this class. Someone who didn't pick this class for that reason. Yes?"

"My older sister said that she really liked it and that I would, too."

Another student in the back called out, "I was hoping it'd be easy."

Snickers from the students. Will didn't bother to restrain his grin. "And there is that reason, of course," he agreed mildly. "Although with that attitude, you may have some difficulty succeeding in this class."

The boy groaned theatrically.

"Any others?"

Will glanced around the classroom. No raised hands.

"Okay. So if we want to figure out why Ancient Runes is an important class, let's talk about ancient runes. What _are_ ancient runes?"

The boy in the back yelled out, "Old drawings!"

Everybody laughed. Will said dryly, "I suppose that's one way to put it. But I'll have to take two points from Gryffindor for speaking without being called on. Next time it happens, it'll be five," he warned as the boy opened his mouth to argue. Wisely, he shut it.

_Good, _Will thought with satisfaction. _I have to prove who's in charge here the very first day. Otherwise, this could easily turn into a disaster._

"But yes, old drawings. How else would you describe them? Yes?"

The girl he'd called on said promptly, "The written languages of wizards in ancient times."

_Someone's obviously read some of the textbook._

"Excellent. Five points to Ravenclaw. Now, can anyone guess why it might be beneficial to be able to read ancient runes?"

Several hands this time. _Good. _"Yes?"

"So that we can figure out what life in ancient times was like?"

"Very good! Someone else."

Hesitantly, a boy offered, "It helps us learn... what people back then knew?"

"Yes. Can somebody make this a little clearer?"

Nobody raised their hands.

Will said, "Wizards- or modern wizards, rather- couldn't always read ancient runes. While it used to be the language of wizards, it was forgotten a long time ago and later rediscovered. Our skills at deciphering them have developed over time. In fact, there are still some ancient runes people haven't been able to read. Turn to page 93 in your textbook."

Several people began to dig through their bags. Others, with their books already open on their desks, hurriedly flipped to the correct page.

Will waited until everyone was open to the correct page and said, "Here you can see a famous set of runes that have never been deciphered. Wizards today work on translating these runes and other similarly undecipherable runes."

He continued, "Now, to get back to the purpose behind learning about ancient runes. As more and more is known about these ancient languages, wizards discover more and more from translating them. They find out about life in ancient times, as was already stated, but they also find out about magic back then, including some spells we don't know about today."

"No way!" somebody blurted out.

Will grinned. _I'll let it go this time. _"Yes way. Guess how wizards discovered the Draught of Living Death?"

Surprised mutterings from the students.

"There have also been some magical theories discovered through ancient runes. Many of these theories are currently being investigated in the Department of Mysteries in the Ministry of Magic. Some have been proved true. Others have been proven mere superstition."

Will erased the "Why Ancient Runes?" from his blackboard and wrote instead, "Careers."

"Can anyone think of a career that uses Ancient Runes?"

A hand. Will nodded to the girl. "Um... well, like you just said, working in the Department of Mysteries?"

"Yes. While that is not a requirement for the job, a knowledge of ancient runes will help you, giving you an extra advantage. What else?"

Silence.

"What about curse-breakers? Wizarding banks such as Gringotts send people to explore ancient tombs and similar places in an attempt to get more gold. Many of these places have curses laid using ancient runes, and to become a curse-breaker, an E at N.E.W.T. level in Ancient Runes is required."

More mutters from the students.

"_That's_ why Ancient Runes is important. That's why Ancient Runes is still taught here, and how it can help you in the future. Now, let's talk about the rules in this classroom..."

* * *

Will slid into a chair at lunch with a sigh of relief.

Hagrid said cheerfully, "Had yer firs' class, then?"

Will grinned at him. "Yeah. Thank goodness_ that's_ over."

Pomona Sprout said cheerfully, "First class is always nerve wracking."

"Yes," Will agreed. "That's one way to describe it."

Dumbledore said lightly to Will, "Not regretting your acceptance of the teaching position?"

"No, I think it'll work out."

"I thought so." And Dumbledore twinkled at him.


	3. Chapter 3

**Fall, 1987**

It was the day of the first Quidditch game of the season.

Severus was glaring at her from across the table. She glared back. _Gryffindor is going to win the cup this year._ _We will! And we'll win this match, too._

Albus inquired, "Who is commentating on the match today, Minerva?"

"A first year, Oliver Wood. Seems quite enthusiastic about Quidditch; he tried to convince me that first years should be allowed to be on the Quidditch teams."

Stanton said with interest, looking up from the crossword in the Daily Prophet, "Why can't first years be on teams?"

"Madam Hooch insists. She says that the first years must actually learn to fly before being allowed to try out for Quidditch."

"It also provides more equality between the Muggle-born students and the ones who were raised magically," Pomona added from farther down the table. "Muggle-borns, after all, do not know how to fly when they arrive at Hogwarts, while most of the half-bloods and pure-bloods do. By second year, however, they all know how to fly, after being taught by Madam Hooch."

Stanton nodded. "Makes sense," he agreed, turning his attention back to his crossword.

Severus sneered, "It's an idiotic rule. It merely keeps talent away from the Quidditch pitch." He scowled in Albus's direction. Minerva knew that Severus had been attempting, without success, to get that particular rule revoked ever since he became Slytherin's head of house.

Albus pretended not to hear him. Albus, Minerva reflected with amusement, was excellent at feigning deafness.

Stanton, in what Minerva realized was an attempt to bring peace back to the table, said quickly, "Does anyone know what the most powerful magical number is?"

"Seven," Albus said, hearing miraculously returned to normal.

Stanton nodded his thanks, fumbling with his quill as he went to write the answer. Ink splattered across the puzzle. He scowled.

Severus said sardonically, "Not much point in doing a crossword if you're too clumsy to avoid covering up the clues."

Stanton said mildly, "Well, I gained ten minutes of enjoyment out of it, so it wasn't entirely pointless, was it? Albus, pass the butter?"

Minerva frowned for a moment, looking at the ink-splattered crossword. _Why_ is _he so clumsy? You'd think he's never used a quill before... _

Her thoughts were interrupted by a somewhat familiar voice. "Professor McGonagall? Is it time to head down to the pitch?" Wood had apparently managed to come up the the High Table without Minerva noticing. His eyes, when Minerva turned to look at him, were lit up with excitement.

"Not yet. I will inform you when it is time."

Albus chuckled as soon as Wood was out of earshot. "Yes, I see what you mean, Minerva. He _is_ rather enthusiastic, isn't he?"

Severus smirked at her. "Yes, quite. It's a good thing you'll have at least one Quidditch player next year- how many are graduating?"

Minerva glared at him. _One of these days- _"Three. Two Chasers, and a Beater."

"Too bad Gryffindor won't have much of a chance next year," Severus drawled. "After all, with only four experienced players..."

"We'll still have Weasley," she pointed out, and leaned back in satisfaction as the hit went home. Charlie Weasley was an excellent Seeker- much better than Slytherin's.

Severus's voice was silky smooth. "A Seeker isn't everything, Minerva."

She said coolly, "Yes, but without a good Seeker, it's nearly impossible to win. After all, there are only thirty-seven recorded games in history where the team that did not catch the Snitch won."

Severus glared at her. "Perhaps it will be thirty-eight after today's game."

"We'll just have to see, won't we? May the best team win."

"I'm sure they will."

* * *

Chattering students slowly filtered into the stands. Wood stood next to Minerva, hanging on to the microphone and peering around in excitement.

"Now," she said briskly, "You know all the players' names?"

"Yes, Professor," Wood said instantly. "For the Gryffindors, Weasley's the Seeker, the two Beaters are..."

Minerva listened with one ear to Wood, but most of her attention was abruptly diverted by the scraps of conversation floating over to her.

"...Seeker catches the Snitch, a small golden ball that flies around on its own, to get one hundred and fifty points." _Albus, _she identified immediately.

"So that's why they said the team that catches the Snitch usually wins?" A familiar voice, but she couldn't quite place it.

"Almost always, yes..." The voices faded until she couldn't hear any more. She frowned. _Who was __that?_

"...and the third Slytherin Chaser is Marcus Flint," Wood finished.

Minerva nodded. "Good."

The cheers of the crowd caught both of their attentions. Wood yelped, "Here they come!"

Minerva muttered the spell, tapping the microphone with her wand. "There. Remember to be unbiased."

She turned her attention to the game. _I can try to remember who Albus was talking to later._

_

* * *

_

"...And Slytherin scores!" Wood cried, sounded alarmed. With good reason._ One hundred and ten to zero, Slytherin. This is a disaster. We _need_ a better Keeper._

"Gryffindor in possession, heading towards the goalposts- blocked by Pucey! Taylor has the Quaffle, heading back up the field, dodges a Bludger shot by one of the Gryffindor beaters, not sure which, Taylor shoots, and SLYTHERIN SCORES!"

Minerva closed her eyes, resisting the urge to groan loudly. _I can't take any more. Weasley, why can't you hurry up and catch the Snitch?_

"Edwards has the Quaffle, heading up the field, and GRYFFINDOR SCORES!" Wood yelled with relief. "Finally- way to go, Edwards- oops, sorry Professor."

Minerva was too relieved to scold him. _At least it isn't a complete shutout. Severus would be insufferable. Not that he won't be anyway. _

"And it's Flint to Taylor, heading down the field- has Higgs seen the Snitch?"

Higgs dove directly through the Chasers, narrowly avoiding hitting Flint. Weasley was after him in half a second, and they were hurtling towards the ground at top speed, and then up again, around the Gryffindor goalposts until out of nowhere-

CRACK! The Bludger slammed into Charlie, flinging him off his broom, he was falling-

-and then he wasn't. He was hanging, perfectly still, in the air.

The crowd was deadly silent. Even Wood was struck dumb. The only movement was Higgs (_he must not have seen it-_) shooting towards the Snitch, his fingers closed around it-

And Charlie was floating to the ground. Minerva turned to look at the stands. Albus was standing, wand pointed at Charlie. _I thought so- but why did Albus freeze him, then? Why not just slow down his fall?_

The crowd unfroze. Everyone was yelling, but Minerva ignored it, shaken at the close call. _That could have turned out very, very badly._

"And Weasley is being taken to the hospital wing by Professor Dumbledore," Wood called, finally recovering his voice at Albus conjured a stretcher for Weasley, walking towards the school. He completely ignored the Slytherin win. _I don't blame him._

Minerva sighed, and stood. The game was over, and she had to check in with Poppy, make sure Weasley would be all right.

This game, she thought sardonically, was such a disaster that Severus might even take pity on her, and not rub Slytherin's victory in at all.

* * *

Minerva entered the hospital wing somewhat later than she would have liked. She'd been held up by hordes of students demanding to know if Charlie would be all right.

She'd had to fight back the urge to say, _Maybe if you would get out of my way and stop asking, I would actually know by now! _Instead, she'd ordered everyone back to their common rooms, telling them that their teachers would inform them as soon as possible.

Suddenly she heard the same voice that she had heard speaking before the match. _Who is that?_

"...think anyone noticed?"

"I believe everyone was too busy looking at Charlie to spare you a glance. Thank you, incidentally, for acting so quickly- I'm afraid it shocked me enough that I did not react immediately. I will have to fix this, in the future... I will not allow my students to be harmed because I did not act quickly enough," Albus said quietly. She should have known he would be here.

A sigh. "I'm glad I did it... but I'm worried about the consequences if anyone finds out. After all, it's not everyone who can point at someone and freeze them where they are."

"True. I will take the credit, if you'd like; I believe nobody will doubt me."

"Thank you, Albus." Relief in that voice.

Minerva hesitated, and then silently withdrew out of the wing. Taking care to make more noise, she walked back in.

"Ah, Minerva. I thought you would show up sooner or later," Albus said, smiling at her. Her eyes were not on him, however. They were on the person standing next to him.

Will Stanton.

Before Minerva could say anything, Poppy hurried in, carrying a tray with several potions.

"How is he?" Minerva asked.

"He has several broken bones, but he'll be quite all right by tomorrow. Actually, he will be fully healed by tonight, but he should stay until tomorrow, just in case."

Minerva nodded, relieved. "Good. Has the rest of the team shown up yet?"

"Not yet," Stanton said. "I suppose they have to get changed, though."

"Actually," Albus commented, listening to the footsteps and voices heading their way, "I think they may be coming now."

"I think I'll head back to my rooms, then. This room can only hold so many, after all," Stanton said. With a nod to the three of them, he left the room.

Albus said lightly, "Yes, I think I'll do the same. Coming, Minerva?"

"Yes," she agreed, and followed him outside.

* * *

Minerva reached her office with a sigh of relief. She'd had to go to the Gryffindor common room and reassure the students, and they'd bombarded her with question for half an hour. She'd also been stopped no less than fourteen times on her way to her office.

_Well, I made it back here in the end._

She sighed.

_I wasn't expecting it to be Stanton. _Then again, she didn't know anything about the man, aside from the fact that he seemed perfectly normal. _Which probably should have clued me in that he isn't._

Minerva sighed again. She still knew very little about him.

_He doesn't know how to play Quidditch. He can apparently freeze people by pointing at them. And,_ she added to her mental list, remembering breakfast, _it seems like he isn't familiar with using a quill to write._

Disconnected facts that told her nothing. _But I'll find out more._

Whatever Will Stanton's secret was, she would figure it out.

"And that's a promise," Minerva muttered.


	4. Chapter 4

**Winter, 1987**

_Hmm. If I could only put the quills and ink into the Honeydukes bag, I _might _be able to stop this all from falling, _Pomona Sprout decided as she inspected the bags and boxes precariously balanced in her arms. _The problem is, how do I get the quills and ink _into_ the bag without it all toppling over?_

This was quickly rendered a moot point, however, when someone bumped into her, sending all her bags and boxes flying. Whoever it was didn't even bother to help her, hurrying off down the street.

Pomona groaned, and knelt to pick up her purchases. "It's your own fault," she scolded herself. "You should know better than to do all your Christmas shopping at once, not to mention this close to Christmas!" Or on a Hogsmeade weekend, for that matter, when all the third years students and above flooded into the village, making it much more difficult to do anything.

"Need some help?"

Pomona turned and smiled. "Hello, Will. Yes, that would be greatly appreciated."

Will Stanton crouched next to her in the snow and, helping to collect the quills scattered everywhere, said conversationally, "Christmas shopping?"

"Yes, and just shopping in general- I'm almost out of ink and I needed some new quills." She sighed, and glanced at the admittedly numerous purchases scattered in the snow. "Unfortunately, it leads to quite a lot of things to carry."

Will laughed. "Don't I know it. I'm doing some last-minute Christmas shopping here, too. Unfortunately, I haven't seen anything that I could give. Where should the quills go?"

"The Honeydukes bag. How many people do you need to buy for?"

"Uh... something around the region of twenty." Correctly interpreting Pomona's surprised look, he added, "I have a lot of siblings, many of whom are married with children. Twenty may be underestimating it."

"And you couldn't find anything for any of them? Have you been to Honeydukes yet?"

"Honeydukes?"

Pomona frowned. "Yes, the sweet shop? Oh," she realized, "Have you ever been here before?"

"No, actually. I haven't the slightest idea where to begin."

"Start in Honeydukes. It's a candy store. If you need gifts for children, candy is always a good place to start."

Will nodded. "Sounds good. Uh, where exactly..."

Pomona shoved the last few pairs of socks into a bag and stood briskly. "Over here. Do you want any help?"

Will followed her obediently, and said, "I'd hate to keep you out in the cold..."

"It's no trouble at all," Pomona said firmly. She hadn't talked much to Will Stanton this year, and had been hoping for a chance to. This was the perfect opportunity. "Here we are."

They walked into Honeydukes, and Will glanced around. "A lot of candy," he commented. "And a lot of children."

She smiled. "Yes. It's a very popular spot with the students. Do you have many nieces and nephews?"

"Yes, around fifteen. They're quite young- the oldest is ten."

"Coming to Hogwarts next year?"

"I don't think so. I'm from a Muggle family. Actually," Will said hesitantly, looking around at the shelves of magical sweets, "I don't know if any of this would work. My family doesn't know about magic, so..."

"You mean _some_ members of your family don't know, right? Surely your parents and siblings must know, if you went to a magical school..."

"Oh, yes, of course," Will said hurriedly. "It's just that my in-laws don't know about magic, and my nieces and nephews don't, either."

Pomona nodded. "I see. What school did you go to, by the way? It wasn't Hogwarts, was it?"

"Uh, no, it wasn't- oh, those look interesting-" Will darted off into another portion of the store and returned with sugar quills. "I have a sweet tooth," he admitted. "I'm running low on normal quills and ink as well, where would I buy them?"

"Scrivenshaft's Quill Shop. It's over there," Pomona said, as Will paid for his sugar quills. He hurried out and she followed him, a little slowly.

When she entered the store, she discovered Will talking to none other than Albus Dumbledore.

"Albus!" she said, slightly surprised.

He beamed at her. "Hello, Pomona. Shopping, I see?"

She smiled wryly. "Yes, Christmas shopping. As well as shopping for some essentials, such as quills."

"Alas, it is an occupational hazard that we are always running out of quills and ink."

"I've noticed," Will said with amusement. "Students are always asking to borrow them."

Pomona chuckled. "One of the benefits of teaching Herbology. None of the students need quills in my class, so nobody ever borrows them."

Will said hurriedly, "Speaking of quills, I really do need some. Excuse me for a minute." He headed deeper into the store.

Albus said lightly, "Are you grateful that winter break is here?"

Pomona laughed. "Yes, I suppose. I do like having a break now and then, no matter how much I enjoy teaching."

"It can get rather exhausting. Are you spending Christmas with your family?"

"Yes, with my son, my niece, and their families. You're staying at Hogwarts, I suppose?"

"I always do. Ah, Will! You've stocked up on quills, I see."

Will made a face. "I've learned my lesson about quills. Always have more than you think you need, and don't loan them to students if you want to keep any. I've had to borrow from Minerva for the last month. It's most embarrassing, really."

Albus chuckled. "We all have difficulty hanging on to our quills, I'm afraid."

"We've been talking about Christmas. I suppose you'll be spending it with your family?" Pomona inquired.

The smile on Will's face vanished. "No, I'm afraid I'll be spending Christmas at Hogwarts." He glanced up at the sky and said, "Weather's getting nasty, isn't it? Since I don't think I'll be able to find anything here, I think I'll head back to the castle. I'll have to see about going to Muggle London tomorrow." He vanished into the snow just beginning to spiral down.

Pomona blinked, surprised. _What just happened? _She opened her mouth to ask Albus.

Albus said, a little too quickly, "If you'll excuse me, Pomona? I was hoping to have a word with my brother..." He vanished in the direction of the Hog's Head before she could speak, and Pomona was left standing alone in the snow.

Somewhat bewildered, she headed over to the Three Broomsticks. As she entered, Minerva's crisp voice called, "Pomona!"

Minerva and Hagrid were sitting together at a table. Pomona slid into the seat next to Minerva with a sigh of relief. _At least in here, it's warm._

Minerva looked with barely concealed amusement at Pomona's multitude of bags. "Christmas shopping?"

"Unfortunately, yes. Are you finished with yours, then?"

"Yes. I didn't have much to do, anyway. What about you, Hagrid?"

"I don' give many presents, an' the ones I do I us'lly make myself."

The three of them chatted cheerfully for several minutes before Minerva said, "Pomona, you're rather quiet today."

Pomona said slowly. "I was thinking, that's all. What do you two know about Will Stanton?"

Minerva's relaxed air vanished instantly. "Not much," she said warily. "Why do you ask?"

Pomona thought, _You may not know much, but you know_ something_. _That, more than anything Will Stanton had said, confirmed Pomona's belief that there was something strange going on.

"Oh, I was talking to him, that's all, and a couple things he said didn't seem quite right, that's all." It sounded stupid, the imaginings of an overworked brain, and yet...

"I asked him what school he went to," Pomona continued, "And he found an excuse to not answer it. After so many years teaching, I know when someone purposefully tries to change the subject. Goodness knows students do it often enough when you ask where their homework is," she added dryly.

Minerva frowned, thoughtful. "Well, he certainly didn't go to Hogwarts. I would remember him."

Hagrid said firmly, "'M sure s'alrigh'. Dumbledore knows 'im, after all."

Minerva said what she and Pomona were both thinking. "Knows him how?"

Hagrid shrugged. "I dunno, but he came ter stay a' Hogwarts over the summer. Dumbledore must've invited 'im."

Minerva said slowly, "Albus never mentioned him to me before. I assumed Stanton applied for the job and that Albus didn't know much about him, but if you're right, Hagrid..."

Pomona sighed, and they all fell quiet.

_Well, I suppose if Albus thinks he's all right, it must be nothing important, _Pomona thought firmly.

_Or Will does have a secret, and Albus is helping him keep it... _A less comforting thought. Still, she trusted Albus.

_It's probably nothing, _Pomona thought, and said, changing the subject, "So. Who's still in the running for the Quidditch Cup?"

_Yes, it must be nothing._


	5. Chapter 5

**Spring, 1988**

"...translate twenty common spells into runic form for homework," Will finished as the bell rang. "Also, start memorizing the runes we've been working on for the last few days."

The students got up, chattering to each other as they left the room. A couple shot glances at Professor Dumbledore, sitting quietly and observing them in the back of the room.

When the last of them was gone, Albus said lightly, "Perhaps next time I observe your class I should make myself invisible. Do the students behave well ordinarily, or merely because of my presence?"

"They behave well enough. Of course, the fact that my classes are small, probably because there are only about forty students in each year, helps quite a bit. The fourth years I had today are my biggest class, actually, at seventeen students. I have sixteen third years and fourteen fifth years. After taking their O.W.L.s, most students drop this class, so I only have three sixth years and five seventh years."

Albus sighed. "Unfortunately, ancient runes are not usually a necessity for one's chosen career. Attendance in all of the elective classes drops very low after fifth year. Classes like Divination and Muggle Studies are considered useless by many of the students, and I suspect that self-preservation prevents people from taking Care of Magical Creatures."

Will raised his eyebrows. "Self-preservation?"

"Professor Kettleburn, before I became Headmaster, spent about three-quarters of his teaching career on probation for recklessness. He has become somewhat more careful, possibly because, as you know, he only has one and a half limbs left." Albus sighed. "Still, he is not quite so careful as he ought to be."

"I see," Will murmured, erasing the blackboard and beginning to copy a set of complicated runes onto it. _Sixth or seventh year work, _Albus decided.

"Do you have a class next period?" he remembered belatedly to ask.

"No," Will said absently, glancing at the book he was copying from. "I have a free period. I have quite a few of them, actually, more than Minerva says she does."

"One of the benefits of teaching an elective class. Another, of course, is that you only have to design three exams. Have you begun to make yours yet?"

Will, putting the book away, made a face. "No. I really should start, I suppose."

"Of course, the benefit of writing these exams is that you may not have to create any more; some teachers use the same exams every year. That is," Albus added, watching Will carefully, "If you are staying on next year."

Will looked startled. "I hadn't really thought about that yet. I think I'd like to, though."

"Think about it, and give me your answer when you're sure," suggested Albus.

Will nodded. "I will." There was a brief, somewhat awkward silence, before Will offered, "Would you like to come into my office and have some tea?"

* * *

"Here you are." The mug was placed on the table in front of Albus with a _clunk_.

"Thank you." Taking careful sips of the tea, Albus looked around him at Will's office.

You could learn much, Albus had discovered, from looking at someone's office. Will's was no exception.

Bookshelves filled practically every available wall space. The books themselves seemed to be placed on in no particular order; the shelf nearest to Albus's head contained A Midsummer Night's Dream, Hogwarts, A History, a book on Muggle history, and The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts. _An interesting selection._

The space not filled by bookshelves was filled with maps. Several hung above Will's desk. _Muggle and magical. It's clear that Will is part of both worlds._

There were only a few truly personal things Albus could see. On Will's desk, a small hunting horn and a blue-green stone rested. An open drawer revealed a photograph of what Albus assumed was Will's family.

Will, catching Albus's glance at the drawer, promptly shut it. Albus could take a hint; he said nothing about it.

Instead, he inquired, "Have you started to consider the requirements for students to take your N.E.W.T. class?"

Will frowned. "No, actually. I'm falling behind here a bit, aren't I?"

Albus shook his head. "You don't really have to decide until the beginning of school next year, but some of your students might ask."

"Hm. I need to actually see the test and how it's graded to decide, I think. Is there any way you could get that for me?"

Albus nodded. "That won't be a problem. I can give you last year's test, along with some sample answers."

"Thanks. That would be great. This year, I think you suggested I asked for Exceeds Expectations?"

"Yes, most of the teachers ask for that grade. Severus demands an Outstanding, however, but as Severus got a perfect score on his own Potions O.W.L., his ideas of what constitutes a good grade in that class are slightly skewed."

Will laughed. "I can imagine. Any other things coming up that I've forgotten to prepare for?"

"Summer homework," Albus chuckled.

He made a face. "I don't _really_ have to start worrying about that yet, do I?"

"No, no."

"Well, _that's_ a relief," Will joked. "By the way, I happened to overhear several of my students laying bets on how the Defense teacher would leave this year. I didn't know that Dennis White was _that_ incapable."

Albus sighed. "There are rumors that the Defense position is cursed. Nobody has held the position for longer than a year for quite a while." _Since Tom Riddle asked for the job._

"Why?" Will asked, face thoughtful.

Albus hesitated, and then said, "Perhaps the rumors are true, and the position is cursed." Even if Will was of the Light, he had been careful to prevent knowledge of the curse from leaking. Not even Minerva knew.

_Time to change the subject_, Albus decided, and said, "Are you enjoying teaching?"

"Yes, I am. I didn't really expect I would, actually, but I am. It's... I feel like I'm doing something important. Something that matters." Will was turned away, and Albus couldn't see his expression.

_Severus feels the same way, _Albus thought. Belatedly remembering to reply, he said, "I think we all feel that way about teaching. It's good to feel like there's a purpose for your life, after all."

Will was perfectly still for a moment, and then replied, "Yes."

Albus, looking at him, wondered, not for the first time, what Will's life had been like, before he had come to Hogwarts. He remembered the smiling family in the picture and thought, _It couldn't have been so bad, could it?_ With a pang, he thought of Ariana, but pushed the memories aside. _Now is not the time._

Breaking the silence, Albus suggested, "I think it's time for lunch. Perhaps we should go?" He could recognize an uncomfortable subject when he saw it.

Will nodded, a little too eagerly, and said quickly, "Yes, let's."

He led the way out of the room. Albus followed, darker subjects abandoned in favor of food and pleasant conversation.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summer, 1988**

Will, glancing around at the students and teachers, thought to himself that the Leaving Feast didn't really seem that different than any other meal. He had thought it would be different, somehow.

"It comes so quickly, doesn't it?"

Will turned to look at Pomona. "Yes, it does. That's just what I was thinking, actually."

She smiled at him. "I feel the same way. Of course, some people feel like it takes forever to come..." she trailed off, looking rather suggestively at Snape. She shrugged, and said, "But most of us find that it comes quickly."

Will nodded. _It felt like that for me. I've taught for a whole year now... I won't be one of the new teachers next year, _he realized with surprise. _How strange._

Albus stood, saying, "Yet another year is over! Now, I believe it is time to award the House Cup..."

It was obvious. All you had to do was look at the Slytherin banners and you could tell.

Curious, he looked at the other teachers. Severus looked smug, while Minerva had a scowl on her face. Filius and Pomona's emotions were more difficult to see; both appeared to be absorbed in Albus's speech.

Will's eyes drifted to the students. Many of the faces were unfamiliar, but not all. He picked out his five seventh year students, and felt a brief pang of sadness. That had been a good class. He had high hopes for those students; they would go far.

_Still, _Will reminded himself, _Don't get too attached to anyone. After all, I'll be here long after they're gone... _And caring meant it would hurt, later on. It was better not to care.

_One of the nice things about a school, really. I'll have the students for five years, and then I'll probably never see them again..._

A voice brought him out of his reverie. "Where's White?" Snape demanded. White was the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. "He's going to miss the feast." His voice was annoyed.

Three thoughts occurred simultaneously in Will's head at that moment. The first was, _I guess Albus's speech is over. _The second was, _That's right, he isn't here. How strange. _The third was, _I bet Snape only wants White to be here because he's jealous White gets to miss the feast and he doesn't._

Trelawney said dreamily, "I see... the Grim! Coming closer, ever closer, to our dear Professor White..." She was ignored.

Minerva muttered under her breath, "Maybe he left early, because he couldn't stand the thought of being around the students a minute longer. I hope he did."

Will agreed wholeheartedly. White was cocky, not to mention one of the most annoying people Will had ever met. Also, according to Will's students, he was a horrible teacher.

"I agree," Will murmured to her. "Why did Albus even hire him?"

"Only three people applied. Him, Severus, and Gilderoy Lockhart. Severus always applies and Albus always turns him down, and Lockhart's even worse. He's applied for several years now, and Albus has always given the job to someone else."

Septima Vector, the Arithmancy teacher, overhearing their conversation, added, "I dread the day that Albus is forced to accept his offer. Someday, though, I doubt there will be anyone else."

"The... 'curse?'" Will suggested.

Minerva nodded. "Word is getting around."

Septima said quietly, "Although there are some fools like White, who think there is no curse, that everyone else was just weak, that they will be the one to hold on to the position..."

Will glanced at her sideways. "So you believe in it, then."

She smiled wryly. "You may call me superstitious, but yes, I do. When every Defense teacher for the six years I have taught here has lasted for no more than a year, while the only other staff change was you replacing the previous Ancient Runes teacher..." She shrugged. "I certainly wouldn't want to hold that position. Why Severus does is beyond me."

"Why doesn't Albus give him the position?" Will asked, careful to keep his voice quiet. "After all, I know he is a capable teacher."

Minerva and Septima looked at each other for a brief moment- _deciding whether or not to tell me, _Will knew.

Septima said quietly, "Severus used to be a Death Eater."

Will stared at her. "You've got to be kidding me. A _Death Eater_?" He'd read about Voldemort, the Death Eaters, and Harry Potter, but the news came as a shock to him. However unpleasant Snape might be, Will had never imagined him to be one of the Dark. _Surely I would have sensed it? _Will glanced down the table at him. _I would have. He's not of the Dark... but why not?_ Death Eaters might not technically be one of the Dark, but do enough evil, and the Old One would be able to sense the Dark in their soul.

"Albus says he rejoined our side before the end of the war." Septima seemed to be about to continue, when Dennis White staggered into the Great Hall.

Conversation ceased almost immediately. Whispers spread across the hall like wildfire, students and teachers alike staring at him in surprise.

He was almost unrecognizable, covered in green mud. Will bit back a snicker. _He looks like he belongs in a swamp, rather than a school._

"That's _it_!" he roared, looking crazed. "This is the last straw! Insubordination from the students all year, the ungrateful brats, being mocked by the other teachers, made a fool of with those pranks, and now _this_! Mud, all over my belongings, charmed to not come off!"

Albus said quietly, "Calm yourself, Dennis."

"I will _not_ calm myself! I am leaving this instant."

With a loud crack, several house-elves appeared with White's mud-covered baggage.

Several students giggled.

White, looking more insane by the second, shrieked, "Silence! I will not be laughed at! I WILL NOT!" He yanked out his wand, and some of the students nearer to him jerked away.

Will saw, out of the corner of his eye, that Snape had his wand out, and that Minerva had her hand in her pocket.

For a moment, it looked like White was about to curse the students. His wand came up, hovering momentarily, his face twisted into a grotesque expression. It came down abruptly, changing direction at the last moment to point at his luggage. His bags floated up, following him out the doors, which shut with a loud bang.

There was a brief, stunned silence, and then everyone went back to what they were doing.

Septima said dryly, "There's a reason the students lay bets on how the DADA teacher will leave each year, you know."

Will murmured, "Yes, I'm starting to see why."

"That," Minerva commented, "Was more theatrical than usual."

"What _is _the usual?" Will asked, uncertain as to whether or not he really wanted to know the answer.

"Illnesses, getting a better job offer, getting fired..."

"Resigning from fear of the curse," Septima muttered.

"I see," Will said quietly.

He glanced around the table for a moment. Listening.

"...five Sickles that the next one will be fired..."

"...looked like a variant of the Permanent Sticking charm, meaning that the quickest way to reverse it would be to discover the caster..."

"...amazing really, how short a time it took Weasley to catch the Snitch..."

"...have a good group of children next year, do you think..."

"Nobody seems that surprised," Will said thoughtfully.

Minerva said dryly, "They aren't. In a few years, you won't be either."

"Hogwarts still has a lot of surprises to throw at me, doesn't it?" Despite the phrasing, it was not a question.

Septima answered it as if it was one anyway. "Oh, you have no idea."


	7. Chapter 7

Author's Note: There has been a bit of a time jump here, just so that everyone knows. I've skipped the 88-89 school year, so it is now, as you can see, Fall 1989.

* * *

**Fall, 1989**

"A _hat_?" Fred whispered incredulously. George couldn't blame him. "We just have to try on a hat? Charlie said we'd have to fight a dragon! And Bill said a troll!"

George nodded. "Although... how would fighting a troll determine what house we belong in?"

"Well, the Gryffindors would attack it while the Hufflepuffs acted as bait, the Slytherins wouldn't fight it at all, and the Ravenclaws would start babbling about all the different ways to fight a troll. Or they'd start panicking about how they hadn't read anything on them."

George considered that for a moment. "Yeah, okay, that might work."

Fred frowned. "Shouldn't they have started the Sorting by now? Where'd McGonagall go? I believe what Bill and Charlie said about her being a tough teacher," he added as an aside. "She looks strict."

"So do I... she's up at the High Table, talking to the other teachers. Why haven't we started yet, d'you think?"

"I dunno... you'd think that after doing this for years, they'd have it down pat, wouldn't you?"

"Yeah. Hey, which table's Gryffindor?"

"Look for the red hair," Fred suggested, scanning the room. "Oh, there's Percy. That one, then."

George nodded. "What about the others?"

Fred frowned. "That's harder to tell...

The shout of "SLYTHERIN!" interrupted their conversation. The Sorting had started while they weren't paying attention. They watched as the girl sat down at one of the tables.

"What if we're in Slytherin?" George whispered. "Or different houses?"

"We won't be," Fred said with confidence, but George was sure he was faking it. "We'll both be in Gryffindor. We _will_."

George nodded doubtfully. "I hope so. I wish our name didn't start with a 'W' – what d'you want to bet we'll be the last ones here?"

Fred winced as the hat cried, "Ravenclaw!" He said, "I hadn't though about that. You're right."

George sighed, and turned his attention back to the Sorting. "I don't think anyone's been in Gryffindor yet," he commented as Professor McGonagall called, "Johnson, Angelina."

Fred frowned. "Do you think it's harder to get into Gryffindor than the other houses?"

"GRYFFINDOR!"

"Apparently not," George said, feeling a little bit relieved.

"Jordan, Lee!"

"Gryffindor!"

Fred grinned at him. "Definitely not! Hey," he added, nodding at the High Table, "Which one do you think is Professor Snape?"

They had heard all about Snape from Bill and Charlie, and both of them were interested to meet him.

Not to mention, looking forward to pranking him.

George frowned at the High Table. "The one across the table from the empty seat. See, sitting next to that brown-haired man..."

"I see him! Hey, why is there an empty seat?"

George shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe one of the teachers is sick?"

"Maybe," Fred said doubtfully.

"Spinnet, Alicia!"

"Gryffindor!"

George fidgeted. "I wish they'd hurry up."

"Stimpson, Patricia!"

Fred nodded. "Yeah. How much longer?"

"Hufflepuff!"

George counted the other students. "Not that many more..."

Fred said abruptly, looking up at the High Table, "I know who's missing."

George frowned. "Who?"

"Professor Dumbledore."

"You're kidding." George stared at the High Table. He'd seen Dumbledore's picture on Chocolate Frog cards before, and it took him only a few moments to realize that Fred was right. Dumbledore wasn't there.

"Nope. The empty chair is the big gold one in the center. It must be Dumbledore's."

"Weasley, Fred," McGonagall called briskly.

"Good luck!" George whispered. He was the only one left now.

There was a pause that seemed to last forever.

Finally, the hat shouted, "Gryffindor!"

Gryffindor table exploded into cheers, but they seemed very unimportant because McGonagall was calling his name.

George walked up to the Sorting Hat. His heart was pounding, and everything seemed very far away. Before he knew it, the hat was on his head.

"You're an easy one. There's only one place where you belong. GRYFFINDOR!"

Relieved, George jumped up and ran over to Gryffindor table, sliding into the seat beside Fred. Charlie, from across the table, grinned at him and said cheerfully, "Knew you'd be here, George!"

Percy, sitting slightly further down the table, didn't even bother to congratulate him. "I wonder where Professor Dumbledore is. Has he ever missed the Sorting before, Charlie?"

Charlie frowned. "No, he hasn't. He always gives a speech, too..."

"Is that why all the teachers are talking and looking like they don't know what to do?" Lee Jordan asked from Fred's other side.

Percy nodded. "He usually says a few words around now." And then Percy fell silent, because Professor McGonagall was standing up to speak.

"Welcome to Hogwarts," she said clearly. "Professor Dumbledore will speak after the feast about the rules and other start-of-term notices." She sat back down again, and food appeared.

"That's it?" Charlie wondered aloud as he helped himself to some pork chops. "She's not even going to say why Dumbledore isn't here?"

George said slowly, watching the High Table, "Maybe she doesn't know why Dumbledore isn't here."

Percy said pompously, "Don't be ridiculous, George. Of course the teachers know why the Headmaster is unable to attend the Sorting. He must have informed them."

Fred pointed out, "They look worried, for people who are 'informed.'"

Percy insisted, "Of course they know." He turned his attention to a conversation further down the table, as if to say, "And that's the end of the matter."

George wasn't so ready to let it go, however, and it seemed Charlie wasn't, either. "Hey, Nick!"

A ghost sitting further down the table said cheerfully, "Yes, Charlie?"

"Has Professor Dumbledore ever missed a Sorting before?"

Nick considered it. "I don't think so. I'm sure that whatever it is, however, the teachers have it under control. Do you think the Quidditch team will be good this year?" he continued, effectively changing the subject.

George shot Fred a glance. He shrugged. George shrugged, too, and decided that if it was important, they would find out sooner or later.

* * *

Professor McGonagall had to give the start-of-term speech that year. And while it caused quite a stir, Professor Dumbledore's absence at the feast was just the beginning of the strange things that were to happen that year.


	8. Chapter 8

**Fall, 1989**

Severus scowled at his plate. _How I hate the beginning of term. If only it could be summer all year round..._

_So why don't you quit?_ a small voice in the back of his head demanded.

_Because, _another part of his head (the stupid, Gryffindor part) said for the thousandth time, _I owe Albus. And because it's a way to make amends. And so that I can watch over Harry Potter, once he gets here._

Severus groaned inwardly. He was fairly sure that talking- or thinking- to yourself was a sign of insanity.

_And if I am insane, then Albus will have to fire me, and that will solve the whole problem of whether to quit or not, wouldn't it?_

"I need to get more sleep," Severus muttered. _Maybe then I wouldn't be delirious in the mornings._

Not many things could have distracted him, at that moment, from his silent, sleep-deprived ramble.

Albus arriving was one of them.

"Albus!" Severus wasn't sure who said it. It might have been himself.

"Where were you last night?" Minerva demanded.

"Is something wrong?" Pomona, that time.

Albus's voice, when he spoke, was heavy. "Something came up. Cornelius requested my help in dealing with it."

"_What _came up?" Severus's voice was drowned out in the burst of noise.

"Something that was more important than the Sorting?"

"Couldn't someone else have attended to it?"

"What is this 'something,' Albus?"

"I don't understand."

"If Fudge wanted it kept quiet, calling you it ruined any chance of that. All the students were talking about it, you know."

The babble continued. Severus rolled his eyes. _Maybe if you all shut up, Albus could explain. Am I the only smart one here?_

No, that wasn't completely accurate. There were several other silent ones. Minerva, which didn't surprise him. Severus knew better than to underestimate her intelligence. Vector. Severus got on better with Vector than many of the others; she was matter-of-fact and didn't get on his nerves, unlike the ones who were currently all talking. Hagrid was one of the loudest, he noticed. Severus sneered. _Fool._

A slight movement drew Severus's eyes to another silent figure. Stanton.

That surprised him, slightly, although he barely knew Stanton. Still, Stanton was waiting patiently for the noise to die down, with an unreadable look on his face as he watched Albus.

Albus, who looked exhausted, and old. Severus felt the first stirrings of worry; Albus _never_ looked old.

"Quiet, plea-" Albus began, but was cut off by the arrival of the post.

The _Daily Prophet _landed in the middle of Severus's plate and on top of his eggs. On any other day, he would have been annoyed by this, but today the headline had his entire attention.

LUNATIC ESCAPES FROM ST. MUNGO'S

There was a brief moment of stunned silence, and then everyone was talking at once again. Everyone but Will Stanton, who was reading the article.

"Is this true, Albus?"

"Is this what Fudge wanted to talk to you about?"

"Who escaped?"

"Is he dangerous?"

"How does Fudge think you'll be able to help?"

"Why-"

"_Quiet_, please," Albus said, a little sharply, and everyone fell silent. "Yes, this is the matter that I was discussing with Cornelius. Yes, someone has indeed gotten out of St. Mungo's."

"Is he dangerous, Albus?" Minerva said sharply.

Albus said wearily, "We aren't sure. He is insane, but not in a way that would affect him very much. He is still just as capable a wizard. We aren't sure why he left the hospital, or what he will attempt to do."

"So we don't know anything," Severus summarized.

"We do know a few things," Minerva argued. "We know he's sane enough to escape, and that he's just as capable a wizard as-"

"_Who_ escaped, Albus?" Severus asked, ignoring her.

"Nathan Collins."

"Who?" Severus asked, bewildered. The name sounded slightly familiar, but he couldn't quite remember...

Minerva said sharply, "Not the one who-"

"How did he get out?" Pomona asked.

"_Why _did he get out?" Vector corrected. "Albus?"

"Nobody knows," he said wearily.

"How is he insane?" Severus demanded. He was ignored.

The table was degenerating into chaos. And so, Severus realized, was the rest of the Great Hall. Several students had obviously found out and were busy telling the ones who didn't know. Some were shooting worried looks at the teachers, who were not helping their worry one bit.

Severus turned back to the rest of the High Table and said curtly, "The students have found out."

"How?" Kettleburn demanded. "Are you sure?"

"Just_ look_ at them, will you? Of course they know. I'm certain some of them get the _Prophet_. And nobody has answered my que-" Severus began, and then stopped when he saw Stanton.

Stanton, who had been reading the article the entire time. Stanton, who wasn't reading it any more, just staring at it. Stanton, with an expression on his face that Severus didn't understand-

"_Merlin_?" Stanton whispered.

Severus thought, for a moment, that he was the only one to hear, until he saw Albus turn toward Stanton with a look of... concern? Alarm? Whatever it was, Severus didn't like it.

"Merlin?" Stanton repeated, louder. "He thinks he's _Merlin_?"

Minerva and Pomona, who had been arguing over how he might have escaped, both fell silent, turning to look at Stanton. Severus understood why. Stanton always seemed calm, in control, imperturbable. The look on Stanton's face now, the way he was tightly controlling himself-

"Oh, yes," Kettleburn said carelessly. Foolish, idiotic- "You didn't know? Quite insane, although I believe there are some people who believe he is, in fact, Merlin reincarnated-"

It was the wrong thing to say. Severus knew that the moment he had said it. Even Kettleburn knew it, and shut up, suddenly realizing that there was something going on here.

Stanton said, an edge in his voice, "Him? Merlin reincarnated? What kind of fool would-" He stood up, abruptly, and walked away, leaving the paper behind. Severus and the rest of the staff watched in silence as he walked out of the Great Hall.


	9. Chapter 9

**Winter, 1989**

Alicia Spinnet jumped the last three steps and hurried into the Great Hall. _Have to hurry, have to hurry, or else I'm going to be late to Transfiguration! _And since she wanted to be on the Quidditch team next year, Alicia was determined to stay on Professor McGonagall's good side.

Alicia slid into the seat next to Angelina Johnson and said, "What time is it? Are we gonna be late?" as she grabbed a muffin and took a large bite.

"Chill, Alicia, we've got plenty of time before class," Lee Jordan said from across the table.

"He's right," Angelina said reassuringly. "We've got... around fifteen minutes before we have to leave," she decided as she consulted her watch.

Alicia chewed, swallowed, and said, "Good. Thanks. Hey, it's the post." The novelty of hundreds of owls swooping down from the ceiling had not quite worn off yet.

As Angelina payed the owl that delivered her copy of the_ Daily Prophet_, Fred commented from one side of Lee, "Late today, aren't they?"

"Who cares?" George muttered from Lee's other side, and turned his attention back to something in his lap.

"Anything interesting?" Alicia asked, eying the paper with curiosity.

"Alicia, you should really get your own paper," Angelina commented as she skimmed the front page. "Then you wouldn't always have to ask me about the news."

"I know. Asking you is free, however. You didn't answer my question."

"Nothing. Just more Merlin hypotheses."

"Like what?" Lee asked.

"That he got out of the ward because he can fly... that he was a supporter of You-Know-Who... that he's dead..."

Alicia rolled her eyes. "Nobody can fly without a broom. It's not possible."

"It is if you use _Wingardium Leviosa_," Fred countered.

"That spell just makes stuff float."

"Yeah, but wouldn't floating have been enough if he floated out the window and to the ground?"

"He escaped during the day; someone would have seen. Anyway, Merlin or whatever his name really is didn't have a wand."

"Someone could have done it for him."

"Look," Lee interrupted, "This is a really pointless argument. Can we please move on?"

"Fine," Fred muttered. Alicia was too busy eating to respond. "The other two actually sound reasonable," Fred continued. "Except I'm pretty sure Merlin and You-Know-Who had some very different ideas."

"Well, he's not really Merlin," Lee argued. "So he could have been one of his followers."

"Hadn't he already been captured when You-Know-Who was in power?" Angelina asked.

"How would I know?"

"If he's dead, it would explain why he hasn't done anything over the last couple of months," Alicia commented.

"Wouldn't someone have found the body?"

"Not if it was hidden well enough."

"What else does the article say?" Lee asked.

"It also took a survey to find out who believes he's actually Merlin and who thinks he's a fraud," Angelina reported.

"What were the results?"

"Ninety-five percent think he's a hoax, five percent think he's real."

"What do you guys think?" Lee asked curiously.

"Fake," Alicia scoffed.

"Yeah, definitely," Fred agreed. "What d'you think, Angelina?"

Angelina shrugged. "I dunno. Fake, I guess."

"You _guess_?" Alicia argued, honing in on the relevant word.

"I... look, what do you think, George?"

George jerked, and glanced up. "What?"

"You weren't listening to a thing we just said, were you?" Alicia accused.

"Sure I was," George protested. "You were talking about Collins, the fake Merlin, right?"

"What _about_ Collins?" Lee demanded. The silence was the only answer needed. "And what have you been looking at all breakfast, anyway?"

"Nothing!" George blurted out, too fast.

Alicia snorted. "Sure you aren't. Come on, let us see."

Lee snatched it out of his hands. "Got it!" He frowned. "It's just a ratty piece of parchment."

Fred challenged, "So how come in Filch's office it was labeled 'Confiscated and Highly Dangerous'?"

"No way."

"Yes way," George said with a grin. "But we can't figure out how to work it."

"I tried just poking it with my wand and telling it to open, but all it did was insult me."

"What?" Angelina said, echoing Alicia's sentiments exactly.

"Try it." George shoved the parchment at them.

Angelina said, wand on it, "I order you to... do whatever you're supposed to do." Skepticism was clear in her voice.

Writing appeared almost immediately.

_Mr. Prongs would like to say that that sounded stupid._

_Mr. Padfoot agrees with Mr. Prongs, and would like to add that the attempt had no creativity. _

Angelina stared at the parchment with disbelief. "How on earth can parchment insult people?"

_Mr. Wormtail would like to suggest that if Ms. Johnson does not believe in the Marauder's Map, that she should give it back to the proper owner and stop attempting to use it._

_Mr. Moony would like to advise Ms. Johnson to put more effort in next time, or not bother trying at all._

"No way," Alicia muttered. She frowned abruptly as a thought occurred to her. "How did it know your name?"

Everyone stared at the piece of parchment.

If it was possible for an inanimate object to look innocent, the parchment was.

Fred continued, "We looked up the spell for putting personality into an inanimate object, and it's incredibly complicated."

"Nobody would cast a spell like that-"

"-if it didn't have a purpose."

Lee said thoughtfully, "It called itself the Marauder's Map."

George nodded decisively. "There's definitely something different about this parchment, and we are going to figure out what it is."

Angelina said abruptly, "Oh no."

"What?" Fred demanded.

"We have about a minute and a half to get to Transfiguration."

All thoughts of breakfast, Merlin, and the Marauder's Map were abandoned as the five students sprinted out of the Great Hall.


	10. Chapter 10

**Winter, 1990**

With a sigh of relief, Will slid into his seat. "Thank goodness _that's_ over," he muttered.

Albus said lightly, "Students misbehaving?"

Will sighed. "Yes. Either that, or sleeping. Or complaining."

"First day back from Christmas break is always hard," Filius commented.

"Impossible," Pomona agreed. "How were your students?"

Will groaned, and didn't reply.

"I think I can guess," she said sympathetically. "What about you, Minerva?"

Minerva smiled. It was not a pleasant smile, nor did it bode well for the students. "I gave four students detentions, and took off a large number of house points. Severus will not be pleased with me."

"Speak of the devil," Will commented, nodding at Snape, who was moving quickly toward them.

Minerva frowned. "What's gotten him in a bad mood now?"

Will looked more closely at Snape's face and thought, _She's right, he looks angry about something-_ when he was interrupted by the subject of his thoughts.

"Have you seen this, Albus?" he demanded, thrusting something that looked like a newspaper at the headmaster.

BOOM.

"What the-" Will began, but an enchanted firework that almost took his head off told him exactly what had just happened.

Snape spat, "If I find who did this- this is not the time!" His wand flashed out, and a handful of fireworks vanished.

Minerva's wand joined him, and she snapped, "Shut the doors! If they get out into the school, it'll take forever to find them all!"

"Why don't you shut them?" Snape demanded as he ducked one that was spitting pink sparks in every direction.

"I can't get a clear shot!"

"I think Septima's got it covered," Will said, looking warily for the next one to come their way. _Times like this, I really wish I had a wand._

"Somebody's going to get hurt," Pomona said with alarm as she felled three of them.

"If they aren't already," Severus agreed grimly.

The chaos was beginning to subside. For the first time, Will noticed that Albus was still reading the newspaper- _The Quibbler_, he noted.

_Why isn't he helping?_ Will wondered.

"Will, why aren't you-" Pomona began, echoing Will's thoughts, before the last three fireworks shot at the teachers simultaneously, fortunately diverting her attention. Together, Minerva and Septima Vanished them.

"WEASLEY AND WEASLEY!" Snape thundered.

Two red-haired boys looked up with alarm from a niche near to the High Table, where they were bent over a suspicious-looking crate.

Snape stalked over to them, Minerva barely a step behind.

Pomona said, "I think we'd better check to see if the students are okay. What if one of the fireworks hit someone?"

Filius nodded, and the two of them hurried over to the House tables. Will was getting up to follow them when Albus spoke.

"This changes everything."

He was looking at the magazine, and the expression on his face made Will nervous.

"What does it say?"

"Nathan Collins. He's coming here."

Nathan Collins. Will sucked in a breath involuntarily, fighting to control himself and think rationally-

And then the second thing Albus said registered.

"_Here_?" At least three people said it at the same time as he did.

"Here." Albus looked grave. "He claims there is a weapon, hidden in the school that he needs to restore the Wizarding World to its former glory."

"A weapon? In a _school_?"

"Former glory?" Aurora Sinistra asked. "What exactly does _that_ mean?"

"Nothing good," Septima said grimly. "Especially not if it requires a weapon to be done."

"Probably wiping out all half-bloods and Muggle-borns," Snape spat, looking furious, as he returned to his former seat.

"That's the usual thing done," Septima agreed, face tight.

"It's not necessarily, though," Aurora argued. "Albus? What do you think?"

"Unfortunately, I believe Severus and Septima are correct."

"But-"

"Collins was placed in the long-term care ward of St. Mungo's after attempting to kill several Muggle-borns he worked with," Albus said quietly. "He claimed to be 'removing the stain from society.'"

Will could hear his heart pounding. His fists, he noted disinterestedly, were clenched tightly, his nails digging into his palms.

"And he's coming_ here_?" Aurora whispered.

"Yes," Severus said curtly. "Or so he claims. Only Xenophilius Lovegood would be foolish enough to interview a homicidal maniac who also happens to be insane."

"_What_?" Minerva, just then returning from yelling at the Weasley twins, demanded sharply.

Albus silently passed her the newspaper.

"What weapon does he mean?"

"Your guess is as good as mine, Severus," Albus replied.

Septima asked, "Albus, what should we do?"

"We will tighten security. I ask all of you to meet me by the front gates tonight at ten, so that we can reinforce the wards. Kindly come prepared with spells that would help to prevent him from entering the school. I will also speak with the Minister about getting an Auror or two to guard the gates." He stood. "Now, I believe classes will be beginning shortly."

They all knew a dismissal when they heard one.

"Will, if I could have a word?"

Will waited silently as the other teachers left. Minerva shot him a glance that was both wary and speculative. Any other time, it would have unnerved him.

Distantly, it occurred to him, _I messed up again. How many of the teachers noticed I didn't help Vanish the firecrackers?_

He was treading a very thin line, Will knew. It was only a matter of time...

He couldn't, at that moment in time, bring himself to care.

"Will." Albus's voice cut through his reverie, and he glanced up into eyes that held much too much understanding. "I understand how you're feeling."

_Do you? _he almost said, but he stopped himself with the last dregs of his control. Anger and hate for the man who dared to impersonate Merriman. Who had tried to kill people, who claimed that Merlin would have wanted a pure-blood world, that_ Merriman_ would have wanted it-

Hurt. Old hurt, the kind that Will didn't think would ever really go away. Hurt because Merriman was _gone_, just like all the Old Ones, and Will was left alone, for forever-

"I don't want to talk about it." The words tried to stick in his throat, but Will forced the words out, and walked away.

He didn't want to talk about it: not now, and not _ever_.


	11. Chapter 11

**Winter, 1990**

Minerva glanced up at the clock and sighed. _Time to go. _Putting aside the papers she had been grading, she left her office, locking the doors behind her.

Reinforcing security around the school. A pain, but a necessary pain. She was planning to merely check the old enchantments and see if any had worn off yet. After all, protections were not her strong point, and Albus would surely do a much better job than she-

"Minerva," a familiar voice called. She half-turned and smiled at Will Stanton, who jogged the last several steps needed to catch up with her.

She did not understand Will Stanton. Nor did she know him well. He was still as impenetrable as he had been on his first day here, two and a half years ago, and Minerva did not like being in the dark. There were too many things that didn't add up about him.

"Hello, Will," she said, and hoped the friendliness in her voice didn't sound forced.

She did not _trust_ Will Stanton, either.

His answering grin was relaxed, so she supposed he hadn't noticed anything off about her own. "Are you ready to reinforce the wards?" he asked.

"Yes, I suppose so." Minerva shrugged. She wasn't about to volunteer what she was planning to do, so she asked instead, "Are you?"

"I guess." Like her, he seemed rather unwilling to say anything on the subject of what he was doing, and said instead, "Horrible weather for it, isn't it?"

She sighed. "Unfortunately," Minerva muttered, looking out a window as they passed it. Rain. "It doesn't look like it will stop any time soon, either."

Will made a face as they walked down the steps into the entrance hall. "How long do you think it will take?"

"It's taken hours in the past," she replied, and opened the doors as Will opened his umbrella.

A slightly companionable, slightly awkward silence fell as they navigated their way through the mud to the front gates, where Minerva could see Albus, Hagrid, and several less recognizable others, due to a faint light hovering over the group.

"...Fluffy could guard 'em, Professor Dumbledore," Hagrid was offering as they reached them.

Will's eyes widened, and Minerva guessed that he had met Fluffy before. She completely agreed.

They walked into the area immediately surrounding the gates, and Minerva discovered that someone had kindly put up a shield against the rain. _Excellent. I was not looking forward to getting drenched._

"Thank you, Hagrid, but I believe the protections we add will be sufficient," Albus said politely, making Minerva sigh with relief, and then frown.

"Albus, what about the Aurors?"

"The Minister told me that I could have several dementors guarding the gates, but not Aurors." He smiled. It was not a pleasant sight. "I told him that I would prefer to have nothing at all rather than dementors."

Minerva nodded. "Of course. I certainly wouldn't want dementors at the school." She shuddered at the thought.

"Yes, I did not like the idea either. However, it does mean that we must be careful with our protections, as they will be the only thing guarding the school."

"Then we'd better get started," Pomona said cheerfully, emerging from the darkness.

Minerva nodded, and got to work.

* * *

She sighed with relief, and muttered, "Done." Stretching, she looked around.

The teachers were spread out at various points around the gates. Most of them were still working. Filius was teaching the gates to recognize a picture of Collins, but that was the only spell Minerva could recognize.

She wasn't, she noticed, the first one done; Sibyll, Will, and Severus were all done, talking quietly on the other side of the gates.

"Do we have to wait until everyone is done, then?" Minerva asked as she walked over to them. _So much for getting to go inside early._

"Yes," Severus said with annoyance. "Albus said they may need to adjust the new spells so that we teachers can still get through the gates, and that can't be done without our presence, or until all the spells are cast."

"It can be done while some spells are being cast, actually, but then they'd just need to fix it later," Minerva pointed out.

"So we still need to wait," Will said, speaking quickly enough to cut off whatever scathing comment Severus had been about to make.

"Yes," Severus muttered, slumping against the walls.

"You finished quickly, Severus?" Minerva asked.

"I am not an expert on wards, Minerva. There wasn't much I could add."

Neither Sibyll or Will offered any comment on why they had taken a short amount of time, Minerva noted. _Then again, Sibyll might not have added _anything_. It is _Sibyll_, after all._

Severus noticed, as well. "I don't believe I saw what you did," he said smoothly to Will.

Will said, with a look of barely suppressed alarm, "I, ah, don't have a lot of experience with wards, either. I didn't do much."

Severus raised an eyebrow and opened his mouth to comment. Minerva gave him a Look. He scowled at her.

"Later," she mouthed.

He sighed, scowled, and relented.

They continued to wait.

* * *

Albus, of course, was the last to finish.

Minerva had no idea what kinds of enchantments he had added to the walls, but she was fine not knowing. She was just glad this was over; it was two in the morning, and she very badly wanted to go to bed.

The adjustment of the spells went quickly, and Minerva paid little attention. She sighed with relief when she realized she could leave, and headed out with everyone else-

-until she saw Will Stanton hanging behind.

Minerva sighed. _So much for getting to bed as soon as possible. _Sleep could wait, though. Finding out what Will Stanton was hiding was much more important.

It was easy. She fell behind the other teachers, and turned into a cat as soon as nobody was looking.

Ever-so-quietly, she crept back to where Will and Albus were talking.

"...able to add to our wards?" Albus.

"I'm not sure. I..." Will fell silent for a long moment, and said, "Yes, all right."

He pointed all five fingers of one hand, and spoke several words in a strange language. _It's not a spell, or not any that I know, at any rate._

The wards flashed a brilliant white for a single moment. Anyone who hadn't seen it would call it lightning. Only Minerva, Will, and Albus knew better.

"Thank you, Will." The two turned to walk back to the castle, and Minerva took off before they could see her.

_Albus knows. Whatever this is, Albus knows. _And that was the puzzling part. Because if Albus knew...

The implications to that needed thinking about.

"But in the _morning_," Minerva muttered to herself as she entered the castle. "After I get some sleep."


	12. Chapter 12

**Spring, 1990**

George sighed with relief as they exited the dungeons. "Finally, finally, the last detention for the firework prank is over."

"That prank was a stupid one, anyway."

"Hey! Just because it was my idea-"

"I'm not saying that because it was your idea, I'm saying it because first of all, we got caught, second of all, the fireworks lasted about three minutes, and third of all, two people got hurt. If we ever pull off a fireworks prank again, we need to plan better."

George reluctantly admitted, "Okay, maybe you're right." A brief, speculative pause. "Wouldn't it be cool if we spelled them to multiply when the teachers try to vanish them?"

Fred grinned. "Brilliant. And obviously we'll have to spell them so that they won't hurt anyone."

"And as for not getting caught..." George smirked. "I suspect the Marauder's Map could help us with that."

"All those secret passageways," Fred agreed reverently. "Hey, do you have it with you now?"

"You bet." George yanked it out, touched his wand to it, and whispered, "I solemnly swear I am up to no good."

Fred watched the ink spread across the paper and said, "Who d'you suppose they were? Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs?"

"I dunno. Maybe we'll find out someday." George inspected the map and announced, "There's nobody anywhere near here. Which means..."

"...There's no one to tell us that it's almost curfew," Fred said, feeling a slow grin spread across his face. "And no one to_ enforce_ curfew, either. What do you say we go explore another secret passageway?"

"You read my mind."

* * *

"Where do you think this one goes?"

It was strange, Fred reflected, hearing George's voice when he couldn't see him.

"I have no idea. Do you think it leaves the castle? After all, we've been able to see where all the other passageways go."

"Maybe. I guess we'll find out when we get to the end of this stupid tunnel. It feels like it goes on forever!"

"And it's so _dark_. I wish I knew a spell to make light," Fred agreed. "And-"

"Ah!"

"George? Are you okay?"

"Just tripped over some stairs. Maybe we're almost out!"

"Maybe..." Fred muttered, a little more pessimistic. His pessimism was proved to be well founded, as there seemed to be hundreds of stairs. The fact that they were climbing them in the dark did not help.

"Have you thought about going _back_?" George asked from ahead of him, sounding horrified at the very thought.

Fred groaned. "Did you have to mention that?" The idea of the hundreds of steps and the hours of walking... he shuddered. "What if it's a dead end and we've come all this way for nothing?"

"Fred, did you have to mention- ow!"

"What happened?"

"Hit my head on the ceiling. I wonder..." A brief pause, and a scrabbling noise. "There! It's a trapdoor!"

Fred grinned. "Do you think..."

"...we're here? I hope so!"

"Wherever 'here' is."

"I think we are," George said, sounding farther away. "Come on up."

Fred managed to get through the trapdoor without too much trouble, although he was nursing a bruised elbow by the end. "So where are we?"

George considered that, looking around with his night-adjusted eyes. "Maybe... Hey, these are crates!"

"A basement?" Fred suggested.

"Maybe... but that would mean we're in someone's house, and that would be bad."

"Or we could be in Hogsmeade."

George shrugged. "Only one way to find out. Do you see stairs anywhere?"

Several minutes later, Fred's hands hit something. He called, "I think I found 'em!"

George said, "Let me see."

Both of their hands carefully explored it. "Definitely stairs. Do you want to go first, or should I?"

Fred swallowed. "I'll go first." He emerged into a room. Store, he identified immediately. _We're in Hogsmeade, then. _"All clear. C'mon."

George clambered out and looked around with curiosity. "Awesome."

Fred grinned. "Yeah. Looks like we found a secret passageway to Hogsmeade."

George grinned back. Or at least Fred thought he did. It was hard to tell in the dark. "Let's go explore!"

"Of course," Fred commented as they wandered the quiet streets, "The problem with this is that we're well-known enough by now that if we sneak out to Hogsmeade, someone will see us."

George sighed. "Yeah. We'll have to figure something out." A brief pause, then: "Hey, let's go check out the Shrieking Shack!"

Fred grinned back. "Let's! Now, which way is it?" he wondered, turning in a circle.

When he saw the shadowy figure, all thoughts of the Shrieking Shack vanished abruptly. "George," he breathed, "Who's that? Why are they awake? And what are they doing?"

George dragged him out of sight behind a store. "It took us so long to get here that even the bars are closed. He can't be up to anything good."

"Where's he going?"

"How should I know?"

Fred said impulsively, "Let's follow him."

They hadn't got so far as pranksters without poking their noses into everyone's businesses and wandering around the castle. This looked very interesting, and Fred wanted to know more.

"Are you crazy?" George hissed.

"Come on. We'll just stay hidden and watch. Aren't you curious?"

"Yeah, but not that curious!"

"Well, _I'm_ going. You coming or not?"

"Fine. If we get killed or expelled for this, you're taking the blame."

"Don't be such a pessimist."

They followed the figure up a long road. _Where are we going? The Shrieking Shack, after all?_ Surely there could be nothing else withing walking distance of Hogsmeade-

-besides Hogwarts, that is.

"I think he's heading to Hogwarts!" Fred whispered to George.

"Shut up! He'll hear!"

They walked on in silence, until Fred's prediction was proved correct. The walls surrounding Hogwarts loomed before them.

The figure stopped in front of the gates. Fred and George paused farther behind him.

"Is he a teacher?" George asked, so softly Fred could barely hear him.

"Must be," Fred breathed back. "Why else- what's he doing?"

Lights were coming from where the figure was standing.

"I dunno. Maybe trying to open the gates?"

"But if he's a teacher... he would be able to," Fred whispered. The idea that this figure might be dangerous had seemed ludicrous in Hogsmeade.

It didn't seem so ludicrous any more.

"Let's get out of here," George whispered.

"I want to see who it is," Fred whispered. "Then we'll know if we need to tell the teachers or not."

Ever so slowly, he inched forward. _Just a little more..._

A burst of light from the man's wand illuminated his face.

Fred froze. His steps backwards were slow and careful. He grabbed George's arm as he went, pulling him back with him.

He barely breathed until they had retreated out of sight of the man. Once he was sure they were out of earshot, he whispered, "Let's get out of here." He took off toward the village at a run.

He could hear George running behind him. He panted, "What- did- you- see?"

"Later!" Fred gasped, and didn't say anything else. They ran back to Hogsmeade, searched desperately until they found Honeydukes, and hurried through the passageway as fast as they could. Fred didn't speak until they had reached the Fat Lady's portrait, and he said the password.

The collapsed into chairs in the common room.

"My legs are on fire," George groaned. "Why did we have to run all that way?"

"George," Fred said quietly, "That was Nathan Collins. Merlin."


End file.
